User blog:Roongtaanjali/Identity
Anjali Roongta 18060361018 Symbiosis School For Liberal Arts Identity. Through the Eyes of Helen and Nargis. As I sit in the dark and hear Nargis-''apa'' speak, I don’t wonder whether what she did was right or wrong. I, myself, never wanted to be a Muslim, yet I know how difficult it must have been for a Christian girl. I am still reeling from what happened to Bishop Soloman and then Nargis-''apa''’s story. She needs me. She just lost her last living family, even if they were estranged. I wonder where my Baba is if I will ever see him again, or will it be like Bishop Soloman and Nargis-''apa'' where one could die without the other knowing. I hope he is fine. Sitting next to her sleeping form, as I stitch the pages of the book, I read about religion. About Gabriel and Muhammad and Mary and I wonder, what is the purpose of religion. As I tell Helen everything, I wonder what is the point of all this? Religion and God? If he created everyone equal, then why this discrimination? Does it matter if I am Margaret or Nargis? Is Margaret even me after so long? A second self hidden in my past? A self who ran away from the brutalities of my reality, unlike Helen, who faced everything with determination and perseverance? What is ''my religion? A Christian is lesser than a Muslim in Pakistan, a Muslim is lesser than a Hindi in India they say, some say they are lesser than the Christians in London but are we? Are we lesser or equal? Is religion hope or chains?'' Growing up, I heard about Islam and Christianity and after hearing’s Nargis-''apa’''s story, I wonder if I could do what she did, become a Muslim. Lie to the law, to my family, to myself and somehow forget I once was Helen and turn into another person. Would it be easier as a Muslim in Pakistan? My life says yes. Better education, less discrimination, more facilities, and human rights would be mine to do with as I please. Mother’s murder, had she been a Muslim, would have died for the blood on his hands. I recall that day when I stood facing the gun, about to die, this is a country for Muslims. And yet, this is my country. The country where I grew up, the country where Grace met Lily, where Massud met Nargis, and no I won’t ever leave. Pakistan is not a country for Muslims; it is a country for Pakistanis. Religion…it is just there, dividing us, elevating some and killing others, important enough to make us hide, to burn down neighbourhoods and kill families, but we are so much more. I am a Pakistani-Christian and this is my home. As I fall asleep, I decide to go to the funeral. I wonder how much of my uncle’s blood is on my hands. I know the man from the military-agency found him because of me. What impact will this have on the country’s Christians? Religion provides hope, I know that. I have seen that happen with the old cleric and Billu and Ayesha, it is the only crutch of the helpless…but is that hope worth the lives it takes? Are these lives even about religion? Was religion worth Seraphina’s life? I know, no one would have harmed her if she had been a Muslim, and yet, I harmed her. Just like Uncle Soloman. I know the man will be there tomorrow, I know he will threaten me with charges of blasphemy. Is religion anything more than a political issue now? Is it hope or ruin? The American man will be forgiven, religion and Sharia law will save him…and yet those who want Sharia law want him dead…I want nothing to do with him. And yet, as my eyes fall on Helen as she sits sewing the book together…I could save her and Imran and Lily. I will go. Margaret might not have to say goodbye to Uncle Soloman, but Nargis has to protect those she has left. I will go. '' '' Category:Blog posts